Venti Macchiato
by GreenLoki
Summary: Thor was that obnoxious customer that always had a cell-phone plastered to his ear whenever he ordered his venti macchiato. So Loki made sure that he made Thor's life as difficult, as well.


It was like clockwork. Eight-forty on the dot, the man with the shoulder-length blonde hair and the brightest pair of blue eyes Loki had ever seen walked through the doors of Stark-Coffee. He was a good looking man with beautifully bronzed skin and muscles bulging from the dress-shirt he always wore. The sound of his voice was sultry, an Australian accent colouring his words and making Loki's skin crawl in all of the right ways. And he knew that he wasn't the only one who thought that way. Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster had definitely made comments about how attractive he looked.

But while they were entirely focussed on the way his hips swayed when he walked out the door, Loki couldn't let go of the one thing that completely ruined the man for him. And it was stupid and petty, because he was probably a nice person, but he barely showed it. How could he when every time he walked into Stark-Coffee, he had that damn cell-phone glued to his ear.

He had let it slip the first time. After all, he looked and acted like he was an important, busy man, so of course, it was only natural for him to need to talk to people, to schedule and make sure things were going according to plan. So Loki had dismissed it the first time. But then he came in the very next morning with that cell-phone pressed to his ear, a faraway look in his overly bright eyes. Loki could remember the flare of frustration, but like the first time, he had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But then the third time rolled around with no change.

And then the fourth.

And the fifth.

Sixth.

Seventh.

And that was when Loki realised that nothing was going to change. So why try to be nice when it wasn't going to be reciprocated? He hadn't even bothered. And it hadn't made much of a difference. It grated at Loki's nerves to the point where he visualised throwing the man's favourite beverage of choice – venti macchiato – right in his face, watching as the light brown colour stained and completely ruined that white dress-shirt. It would probably mean the end of his job, but at least the vacant look in the man's eyes would leave. At least it would mean some type of emotion coming from the man. It would mean words directed at him in some form and fashion.

It was a nice fantasy. But Loki had need of his job. College didn't pay for itself, of course. He was a clever man, though. He could find other ways of getting the man's attention.

* * *

"Five minutes." Darcy sang in Loki's ear as she danced by, experienced hands working the machines. It was a little past eight-thirty in the morning and there was already a line, people hurrying to grab that cup of coffee before their work-day began.

Loki couldn't help but roll his eyes at her words. Though Darcy was a nice person, she had a perchance for getting into other people's business. And after it was made known that Loki couldn't stand their re-occurring visitor, she made it her business to tease him about it any chance she got. "Less talk and more work, Lewis."

"I hope he's wearing that man-bun again." She continued, her voice slightly cut off due to the loud noise of the expresso-machine. But Loki got the gist of what she was saying and had to resist rolling his eyes once more. He already had a headache and he certainly didn't need to create a bigger one. "I love a man with a bun."

"Why can't you be quiet like Jane?"

"Because who else will talk to you about our man?"

Scowling darkly at Darcy, Loki pressed a lid against the plastic of a black coffee and handed it over to a man with a dark blue suit and a too-serious expression on his face. Loki wondered why he even thought working at Stark-Coffee was a good idea. Everyone there was either too arrogant to give him the time of day – much less think of him as a person – or too scary to even think about starting a conversation with. Which meant the only people he could talk to was Darcy, who grated on his nerves more times than not, and Jane, who blushed and mumbled, which made Loki curious as to how she even got a job in the first place if she couldn't even talk to someone without stumbling over her words.

Sighing, he shook the thoughts from his mind. There was nothing he could do about them. Besides, he only had a few more hours left and then he was able to escape and lose himself in his psychology textbook. Afterward, he could meet up with Fandral and Sif and forget about what a horrible job he had.

It was as he was compiling a list of assignments he needed to finish before the week was up that the man walked in. Loki could feel his mood worsening when he spotted that familiar black cell-phone pressed against his ear, his Australian accent barely discernible over the machines and voices of other patrons.

"Aw, no man-bun." Darcy said, a frown in her voice.

"Why would he have a man-bun?" Loki found himself demanding, his voice perhaps a little harsher than usual. He found that he didn't care, though. His headache was already starting to worsen. "It's hardly professional."

Whatever Darcy was going to say was washed away by the wave of men and women in line for their morning beverages. The only good thing about working at Stark-Coffee was the rush. While it was hot behind the counter and sometimes crowded with how quickly they were moving around, trying to find the right tools and cups for selected drinks, Loki liked knowing that time moved a lot quicker when work was abundant.

Which was why it was almost shocking when Loki looked up from the register and saw the man with the overly bright eyes standing before him. Surprising enough, the cell-phone wasn't plastered to his ear like it usually was. Instead, it was in his face, his fingers quickly dancing over the touch-screen keyboard. While it was definitely new to what Loki was usually accustomed to seeing, he still felt a twinge of anger at the fact that the man still hadn't spared him a look.

"What can I get for you today?" He asked, forcing himself to speak in a tone that didn't express how annoyed he was feeling on the inside.

"The usual, please." He replied, voice faraway.

Loki stared at him for a moment, wondering exactly what he should say to something like that. While he knew the man's order – he ordered nothing else – he didn't want to necessarily make things easier for him. Why should he? He wasn't in any rush.

"And what is that, exactly?" Loki asked, raising his voice just slightly, demanding the man's attention. From where he was standing, he could feel Darcy's eyes on him. He briefly wondered what she was thinking, if she approved or disapproved of what he was doing. And then he promptly dismissed that query. He didn't care one bit what she thought.

"A venti macchiato." The man answered after a moment.

Finally – _finally –_ he looked at Loki. Loki didn't know what he was expecting, what he had hoped to gain from this. He had expected a scowl or a snippy response. He was probably like all the other suits – stuck up, thinking that they were better than a barista. He had expected an eye-roll or a shake of his head. But what he actually got had his brows furrowing.

The man continued to stare at him, a thoughtful look on his face, like he was pondering something. Loki didn't know why, but he found that he couldn't demand to know what he was looking at. The man's overly bright blue eyes were shining under the fluorescent lights and Loki felt his cheeks redden just slightly.

His jaw clenched tightly, because he was sure that Darcy was watching the whole thing, and he knew that she would make a snide comment when the man was long gone. She would never let it go and he would forever have that hanging over his head, thinking about it every single time the man walked through those doors, wanting his venti macchiato.

"I need a name." Loki finally said, ignoring how hurried and bitter he sounded, even to his own ears. "We're backed up at the moment. I'll call you when your beverage has been made."

The man nodded and said: "Thor."

Thor moved down the counter toward Jane, who took the pro-offered credit card. He already had his cell-phone up, fingers dexterously moving on their own accord with lightning speed. Loki watched him for a moment, feeling the scowl growing on his face. He refused to look back at where Darcy was. He knew he'd see a smirk on her face. Maybe she'd wink and give him a thumbs up.

Pressing his lips together until they were nothing but two thin, white lines, Loki snatched a clear cup and picked up a black Sharpie-marker. Narrowing his eyes, he wrote: _Cell-Phone Guy_.

* * *

Thor had just left. Loki, along with Darcy and Jane, had watched him saunter out of Stark-Coffee. Of course, he had a glare on his face, his eyes plastered to the back of his head – more accurately, at the black cell-phone that was pressed against his ear. For not the first time, he wondered why it angered him so much. They lived in an age where technology was essential. If he walked down the streets of Manhattan, he could look around and easily see people talking on their phones or texting. So why was this man's use of a cell-phone enough to want to rip it out of his hand and throw it in the espresso-machine?

The lack of answer was enough to drive him insane.

Darcy's voice, however, was what would actually drive him over the edge of insanity. He had known that his unexpected behaviour toward Thor would catch her attention, had known that she wouldn't let it go, would taunt and ridicule him until the end of time. It didn't stop the frustration that welled inside of him, though, every single time he glanced over and saw that coy smirk on her face. Now he'd have to find something to hold against her, which meant spending extra attention to her and her activities. Which meant actually listening to her when she spoke.

"Bye, pretty man-bun." She said when Thor disappeared out of sight, a wistful look on her face. Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Right, let's get these customers their drinks and start cleaning up." Loki instructed, glancing around at their stations. Cup-lids were strewn about the metal countertops, Sharpie-markers and their caps in the same fashion.

"Did you notice the way he was staring at you?" Darcy asked, ignoring what he was saying – and ignoring the three people who were still in line, waiting for their drinks.

"Less talk and more work, Lewis."

"Yeah, please." A man behind the counter said, an aggravated look on his face. "Get your head out of the clouds and actually try doing your job for once."

Loki gaped at the man before narrowing his eyes, unsure where the wave of hostility was coming from, but welcoming it nonetheless. Pushing Darcy toward the espresso-machine, not caring that it was her day to be taking orders, Loki moved over to the counter and leaned against it, propping his elbows up.

"There's no need to be rude." He said, speaking in a voice that was little more than a warning. He didn't necessarily have the power to kick someone out, but this man didn't know that. Sure, they'd lose a bit of money, but Loki didn't care. "Now what do you want?"

Despite his obvious warning, the man huffed and said: "Well, at your convenience, I want the iced, half-caff, ristretto, venti, 4-pump, sugar-free, cinnamon, dolce-soy, skinny latte."

Snorting, Loki took in the man in front of him. He was bald, tanned skin, with glasses over his beady eyes. He wore an obnoxious look on his face, his suit well-tailored, and Loki was sure that his shoes were of the finest quality. He looked like he was a very important person, but Loki didn't care at all. Why he was getting so defensive over Darcy, he didn't know. What he did know was that he was annoyed and frustrated and he didn't care who he lashed out on, so long as he lashed out and got it off his chest. And it looked like this man was giving him that opportunity.

Smiling overly sweetly, Loki cocked his head to the side. "Of course, that's what you would order."

"I'm in a bit of a rush, so would you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"Make the coffee!" The man snapped, his fists curling into tight balls. He was aiming to humiliate Loki. He knew by the way the man's voice rose, easily gaining the attention of the few people who were in line and those who sat in the small tables off to the side.

Loki rolled his eyes. "There's no need to be rude. That's strike two." Leaning his hip against the counter, he reached over and took a clear, plastic cup from the stack. Pulling a Sharpie-marker from his apron, he uncapped it, and glanced over at the beady-eyed man. "What is your name?"

"Jasper Sitwell. The senator's assistant." He answered. He sounded strong and confident as he enunciated his words, as though that had any meaning to Loki. It appeared as though the man was trying to scare him. "What's your name? So that I can report you."

"If you look hard enough, you'll see that my name is on my name-tag, which is pinned to my apron. But I can forgive you for that. I'm sure your home-life isn't up to par. Has your wife left you yet? It looks like it." He was going out on a limb, he knew that. But as a psychology major, he could pick up on a few things. Like how there were bags under his eyes, like he hadn't slept and – if he had slept – it hadn't been a restful one. Which meant he either slept on a couch somewhere or in an unfamiliar place, like a hotel. Or maybe that wasn't psychology at all, but observation.

Loki knew that he was on the right track, because the man's face turned red, his beady-eyes skittering around, as though he didn't want that knowledge made public. Understandable, of course, but that was exactly what he wanted. Perhaps it would be a lesson to the man. Don't treat others like dirt just because you think you're better than them.

"I'll have you fired!" He snarled, lips curling into a nasty scowl.

"And there you go threatening again." Loki replied, tossing down the Sharpie-marker and the cup that he still had in his hands. Pressing his hands against the counter, Loki sighed. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Sitwell. We don't serve assholes."

"You'll hear from me again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, yes." Loki rolled his eyes. It was getting boring now. "I look forward to that."

By the time the guy left, there was still two other people waiting. Not wanting to leave them waiting any longer, Loki immediately took their orders and, fifteen minutes later, the only people in Stark-Coffee were the ones sitting at the small tables off to the side.

Having taken care of the rest of the customers, of course, meant that there was nothing that could distract him from having to confront Darcy, who was probably waiting for the opportunity to say something about what he did. Which he wasn't looking forward to. It went either way with her – either she'd take offense to him coming to her 'rescue' or she'd tease him for liking her, even though he gave her a hard time and tried his damnedest to not listen to her.

When he finally summoned the courage to turn around and face her, he was only mildly surprised to see a smirk on her face. But instead of getting angry at him or teasing him, she merely nodded her head.

"Thanks, Loki."

Well, he couldn't have that. "Shut up. Start cleaning. This place looks like a mess."

* * *

Loki felt on edge. And he didn't like feeling on edge. Clenching his teeth together, Loki viciously started scrubbing at the countertops, glancing up every once and a while at the man sitting in the corner seat, a folder opened up in front of him, but that black cell-phone in his hands. The screen glowed, making those overly bright blue eyes shine all the more. Which was nice and all, but _why was he here?_ It wasn't eight-forty in the morning. It was five in the afternoon. He had no business being there now.

But … it was Loki's first time taking over an afternoon-shift, so maybe this was a common occurrence. He'd ask the other two workers, but that would mean explaining why he wanted to know, and that was something he didn't want to do. Besides, it probably wasn't going to become a normal thing, him taking over this shift. Loki wouldn't lie, though: The extra shift was certainly helping him out.

"I think that spot is cleaned." A female voice came, the words husky and deep, coloured with the hint of amusement, though her expression revealed nothing of the sort. Loki didn't know if he liked that or if he admired that. It definitely messed with people.

Straightening up, Loki tossed the damp cloth to the side and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. He didn't know if he liked the afternoon-shift. There had been a few people who came in, but other than that, it was particularly slow and boring. Or at least that was until Thor came in. He had smiled when he saw Loki, gave a bit of a wave, and then moved over to that corner table and sat down. That had been that.

"So what exactly do you guys do when there aren't any people?" He asked, suppressing a yawn. His class had gone over almost thirty minutes and he had a paper that needed to be read over and edited before he turned it in. Which meant he only had a few hours to take care of that and the study-guide he had planned to work on. Which meant another late night and an early morning. Loki sighed.

"We make sure that you have everything you need for the morning-shift."

Humming, Loki glanced around. "Where is the other one?"

"Are you referring to Clint? The same Clint who is in your health class on Tuesdays and Thursdays?" She raised an unimpressed, neatly trimmed brow.

"Yes, Natasha. That one." Loki droned in a bored tone.

"He's getting into the boxes and pulling out more cups and lids." Natasha answered. She had yet to look away from Loki and that only caused him to feel caged. Did she not have something that she could attend to while he stayed at the front in case someone came in? "Why are you so adamant about dehumanising him when you already know him?"

Suppressing a heavy sigh, Loki cleared his throat, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Because I don't like seeing the people I go to school with, that's why. Now go do something. I'm busy manning the front."

"You do know I'm in charge, right?" She asked. Despite her rhetorical question, she started moving toward the back. "And you're failing at your only job." She left him with a questioning gaze and a sweet smile on her face.

Furrowing his brow, Loki turned his head and then startled in surprise, not at all expecting Thor to be standing there, a polite smile on his face. He turned himself around and cleared his throat again, unsure why he was feeling so weird, and then growing impatient, because he was so aware of it. Thor was just a human like everyone else. A human without his cell-phone. The fact had his mouth part just slightly, shock stalling his movements yet again.

Or at least it did until he realised that it was a full thirty seconds and neither had spoken a word yet. His cheeks flushed slightly. "Oh. It's you."

"It is." Thor replied. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Likewise."

He had no idea why it felt so awkward. They'd never had a conversation before. Maybe that was it. But Loki had had conversations before with customers and he'd never felt awkward or out of place before. Perhaps that was because he had taken a bit of an interest in Thor. Not in the way that he wanted to see more of him, but in the I-can't-stand-seeing-you-on-that-damn-cell-phone-while-you're-ordering way. It frustrated him, regardless.

"Right, uh, can I get you anything?" He continued when Thor had yet to say anything.

"An iced caramel latte, please."

Loki's brows furrowed. "No venti macchiato?" The question came out before he had the time to process the words. He cursed himself. And people wondered why he had at least thirty feet of distance between himself and everyone else.

If Thor took note of the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions flickering behind his eyes, he said nothing to it. He chuckled and shook his head. "Not this time."

"Right." He repeated before turning around. Internally trying to put himself back in order, he reached out and grabbed a clear, plastic cup and the black Sharpie-marker. He paused for a moment before writing: _Surprisingly Not the Venti Macchiato_.

* * *

Somehow – and Loki didn't necessarily understand how or when – it became a thing. Every morning, Thor would come, they would small-talk, and Loki would come up with something weird and funny and completely random to write on his cup. Honestly, he didn't have a clue why he did it. He knew the man's name, knew how it spell the damn thing. Why he was coming up with labels like _Skewed Tie_ or, Darcy's personal favourite, _Man-Bun_ was beyond him.

He wasn't sure he minded, though. He'd tell anyone who asked that the reason why was because Thor wasn't coming up to the counter with that black cell-phone plastered to his ear or directly in his face. That was, after all, the thing that had driven him absolutely insane since the first time that he saw him, since the first time he had come up to the counter to order his stupid venti machhiato.

But that was what he'd tell anyone who asked. As for his personal reason … well, maybe he liked how Thor smiled at him. Maybe he liked that it wasn't simply a smile one gave to strangers – polite, formal, and at least fifty per cent fake. Loki knew by now that Thor wasn't giving him one of those. He knew, because the corner of his lip on the right side always raised just a bit higher than the left. He knew by how expressive his eyes were, how they lit up when he saw him and twinkled when Loki said something sarcastic or biting. Thor happened to find it amusing.

Loki didn't know what he thought about it all. But he noticed knowing looks from Darcy and even Jane whenever Thor came and went, knew that they were just about ready to burst at the seams. So if there was one thing Loki did think with absolute certainty was that he needed to construct a better wall, because he was becoming easier to read. And that was just no.

* * *

 _Twinkly-Twinkly Little Thor._

 _Your Fly is Down._ Cue Thor abruptly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to check. _Gullible._

 _Your Hair is Getting Really Long._

 _Inhumanly Bright Blue Eyes._

 _Alien._

 _Kangaroo Wrestler._

 _Australian Teddy-Bear._

 _My Name is Loki._ Thor smiled and continued to rotate the cup when he caught sight of more messily scrawled words. _In Case You Didn't Know._

* * *

Loki realised right away that he didn't like Natasha being in charge, especially when he was so used to being in charge in the morning. It was like he was being demoted. He wondered if maybe that Jasper Sitwell actually called his boss and reported him. The thought was easily dismissed shortly after. That type of man was all talk and no action. Besides, he probably had more things to worry about – like his wife's inability to stop sleeping with the senator.

He was sweeping the floor in the back, feeling his aggravation grow ever single time he heard the sound of those plastic lids sliding against the floor. Why everyone thought it was just a brilliant idea to kick the lids under the counter was beyond him. It only meant more work for the people who prepped the place for the morning-shift. Granted, he had never thought of that before, but he was cleaning up the mess now and it pissed him off.

He was glad when he heard the sound of the bell jingling. He normally hated the sound of that bell, had even visualised ripping it off the door and throwing it in the trash-bin on more than one occasion. It was a chance for a break now. Propping the broom against the wall, Loki wiped his hands on his apron and blew out a breath. It was warm in the back, which meant he probably looked flushed and messy.

"Hey." Thor's voice came when Loki walked out of the back. He had a pleased smile on his face, his dimples standing out against his face.

"Hello there," Loki replied, finding himself grinning, "long time, no see."

"It has felt like ages, hasn't it?"

That had become a thing, too. Though when it had started, Loki didn't know the answer to, either. It was a welcome, nonetheless. It certainly beat the repetitive small-talk he had with other customers who would rather have their drinks and be on their way as quickly as possible.

"What can I do for you, crocodile wrangler?" Loki asked, leaning himself against the counter.

It was only then that he noticed how casual Thor was dressed. His hair was tied up in a bun at the nape of his neck, a chain disappearing into the light blue shirt that he wore. If Darcy was there – or even Jane – they would have started salivating at the mouth, he was sure of it. Surprisingly, he was kind of close to doing the same thing. But he had control and a reputation for not giving a damn about anything to uphold. A quick glance down was almost his undoing. Thor was wearing jeans. The good kind that hugged his ass and thighs, but didn't restrict or look too snug. Loki cleared his throat. He could feel his face heating up just slightly. It was way too hot for this.

"I, uh … Well, I was actually wondering when you got off?" Thor asked, lifting a hand to run against the back of his neck. He was nervous. That was an obvious tick. His eyes were skittering all over the place. He looked – Wait.

"What?" Loki blinked. His mouth gaped open.

"Yeah, I wanted to know if you wanted to have some coffee with me." His eyes widened when Loki raised his brows, as though only now getting what he had said. "Oh! Not here. Somewhere else. Where you aren't the one making the coffee …"

He wondered if he still looked surprised. He felt it. Closing his mouth – it had been open longer than he would have liked – Loki realised that Thor had dressed in preparation for a date he hadn't known would happen. That in itself had Loki's breath hitching only slightly, a small smile forming.

"You might have to wait about half an hour." Loki answered, watching in amusement as Thor's shoulders sagged in obvious relief. "I have to finish sweeping the back."

"I can wait."

Loki didn't know what to think or do when Thor pulled out that black cell-phone and wagged it in his face before moving to the corner table. It took him all of five seconds to get lost in the phone when he sat down, fingers flicking over the touch-screen. Shaking his head, Loki turned around and went back over to the broom.

It wasn't _that_ annoying of a habit, anyway.


End file.
